Motionless
by ririunlocked
Summary: Clary Fairchild is thrown into a new life that is all familiar, yet completely foreign to her. Learning to navigate Idris with it's special schools, high-society and traditional ways she must remember her childhood and the boy with golden eyes who has captivated her attention while never forgetting to keep moving. AU and all human.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1: What Was Normal**

She couldn't tell anymore if the wheels of their car were turning or if the ground just constantly moved beneath her feet.

Clary Fairchild sat in the back of her soon-to-be stepfather's pickup truck on a seat that wasn't a seat, squashed between a window and the blurred lines of the outside world. It felt normal to be moving homes, exchanging houses and lives, routines disfigured but forever constant. It was what she had grown up with, and soon learned to expect.

Tapping mindlessly on her sketchpad Clary wondered about this familiar yet foreign place she was being propelled into. Whether by her mother or the universe itself, it was pretty typical actually that they were finally going full circle. Idris was the name this time, a small town on the outskirts of New York, unknown to everyone besides her mother and her fiancé, Luke, who had grown up there, and apparently so had she.

"Idris? What is that, a disease?"

"No sweetheart, it a _town_ and if you would just stay still and listen-"

"I just don't understand why we have to move again! I thought everything was great here in Brooklyn. You and Luke are finally together, we've got the bookshop, you've got the studio, and I _finally_ have a life_._ I've made friends and plans here. Why does that have to change now?" Clary was furiously unpacking her bag on the table, slamming down her books one by one. She didn't even feel sorry when she saw her mother flinch at the sound.

"That doesn't have to change, you can still have a life in Idris… You've had one there before." Her mothers green eyes looked at her pleadingly. Whenever she met people for the first time they always commented on how she looked so much like her mother. Same green eyes, same small petite frame, same raging head of red curls. Except Clary felt nothing but a smaller, more pale copy to her mothers beauty.

"Before what? Before you started moving Jon and I around America like dogs imprisoned by your leash?" As soon as the words left her mouth she went still. Looking up she saw her mom biting her bottom lip and turning away from her gaze. Jon was a sore subject between them and she hadn't meant to upset her. She reached out and then, suddenly, and if not always, Luke appeared at her side. Clary hadn't even noticed him when she came home.

He tucked his arm around her mom in the most natural way possible and said, "Clary, what Jocelyn - your mother - means is that you can still have the life you have here in Idris. You have memories there already."

"Memories of a life I can't even remember."

"Clary," he said her name like an exhale of breath and her gut twinged in regret. She loved Luke, he was the father she never knew, but she hated how somehow he always became the bridge between her and her mom. They couldn't go hours without arguing and yet Luke was always the one to pick up the pieces. Him and her brother that is… when he still lived with them.

"You've never had a problem with moving before, I remember when you rejoiced the day for a new place, a new adventure, just a year ago when we moved here. What's changed so much this time that you can't move on?"

Luke voice was calm and soothing, he always knew what to say to get her to talk, and just how to say it too. Clary sunk into the couch in defeat, looking up into his pale blue eyes. "It's just… It's the longest we've been in one place at a time. I thought that maybe… just this once… I could grow comfortable here, make some friends without having to say goodbye again. I kept hoping. I mean I thought, that maybe _this time_ it would be permanent."

"Baby," Her mom had slipped from Luke's grasp to sit next to Clary and take hold of her hands, pulling her gaze from the floor straight to her green eyes, "I promise you, that this will be the last time, _I swear _to you and your brother. We can finally have a home together, a _permanent _one." Her gaze was so strong, and the green in her eyes was so honest and _alluring, _she wanted her to be telling the truth, just how her and Jon wanted it to be every other time. So, she believed her, like a child believes their parents when they say the moon is made of cheese and you can fly if you really want too. Clary nodded in defeat and fell into her mom's embrace.

Luke looked at them and said in satisfaction, "That's my girls, now, who wants a warm cup of coffee. I think I'll definitely be needing two if you guys keep this up." Clary stuck her hand in the air and yelled "I do!" while her mom grabbed a pillow and threw it at Luke's back. He spun around and caught it chuckling while her mom pouted in submission. And just like that, they were back to their normal selves, constantly moving and joking like old times, and it was.

BUZZ, BUZZ.

Clary jumped as she felt her phone vibrate in her pocket, pulling her away from her thoughts, she smiled when she saw whom the text message was from.

"Is that Simon?" Her mom asked, looking back at her from the front seat, a strange gleam in her eyes. "Tell him I say 'hi'"

"Yeah, he just texted me." She said, unlocking her phone.

_Dying of boredom without me Fairchild? – S_

When Clary argued with her mom about how she had friends in Brooklyn that she didn't want to leave, that was a lie. She only had one friend, and that was none other than the geeky, perpetually annoying yet lovable, Simon Lewis.

_In your dreams! I'm basking in joy without you :P Mum says hi FYI – C_

_Now I'm hurt! Tell her to 'call me' will you? ;) – S_

She laughed and said, "He says 'call me'," Her mum scoffed while Luke titled his head back and barked out a laugh.

BUZZ, BUZZ.

_Are you guys still on the road? It's 11pm – S _

_We've got like an hour to go, then freedom for my cursed legs – C_

_Hey, at least you wont have to face the neighbours in the dark ;) – S_

_Thank God, I'll text when we're there, k? – C_

_Kay, kay! And if you didn't read that like a stereotypical blonde with a hair twirl and everything you're soooo not my friend :D – S_

_Don't worry, my brain delivered – C_

_*sending electronic high five* - S_

Clary laughed again and put her ear buds as she watched the sun set through the car window.

…

Clary stared in astonishment at the bright lights of Idris. The car was rolling down one of the main streets and Clary could not believe her eyes. "This is Idris?"

"Yes…" Her mother sounded hesitant.

"I thought you said it was small… ?"

"It is, there's just a lot of family heritage here."

Idris looked like what Clary imagined one of the cities in Europe looked like in the 1900's. Old-fashioned, rustic, cultural, but now full of today's modern transportation and technology. Her fingers itched for a pencil and some paper at the beauty of it.

They began leaving behind the main streets and started rolling down into the suburbs, and Clary's mouth, not for the first time tonight, dropped open. "Are all the 'houses' here actually Manors? How can we afford living here if everything is so…. high-class? _How _did you afford to live here?" She could see her mother biting her lip again and the quick flick of her hand over her, or rather their, matching curly red hair. Luke's hand sneakily left the gear-stick to rest on her mom's knee, rubbing soothing circles like he would on Clary's back when she was feeling sick.

Clary looked away, clearly her mom had forgotten to tell her something, otherwise she wouldn't feel like an intruder on this obviously intimate moment.

"Well, you know how I told you we would be moving into my parent's old house," they began rolling to a stop outside one of the most glamorous houses Clary had ever seen. "This is the Fairchild family manor."

"Oh. My. God. You're kidding right?"

This was beyond her wildest expectations. The house was _massive, _completely white with bronze trimmings along the windows and a rap around terrace with circular driveway and-

"Do you like it?" Jocelyn had cut her thoughts short, looking at Clary in the back seat with apprehension in her eyes. Clary had no idea what she could be afraid of; this house was something out of a dream.

So instead, Clary ignored her question, opened the car door and jumped out, swinging her backpack with her, and asked, "Which room's mine?" Her mother stared down from her seat and smiled a smile that reached her eyes and crinkled her nose letting out a laugh Clary rarely heard anymore. It reminded her of those brief moments before Jon left, when they'd stayed at Luke's farmhouse when she was seven, before they begun moving and worrying about shadows and lingering words.

"Inside we go then," Jocelyn said taking Luke's hand and hopping out of the pickup truck. They began walking up the steps navigating the driveway and front steps in the dark as Jocelyn fumbled for some keys and Clary turned to look at the neighbourhood. Most of the houses- correction, _manors_, had few lights on and were all a good distance from each other on large, spacious properties. It was the end of summer break so all the teenagers that lived here were probably awake still in the early hours of the morning trying to make the most of their freedom while it lasted. She scanned the windows of her neighbours and thought she saw a figure move in one of the windows – but she was too far away to focus and before she could blink it disappeared. She definitely needed some sleep.

The front door opened with a loud creak and a puff of dust. _Well that's not at all ominous, _Clary thought walking into a dark foyer. Then the lights went on she had to shield her eyes from the brightness. Once they adjusted she couldn't believer her eyes. _Is that a chandelier? I must be dreaming, asleep in Luke's truck. _And then she felt the pressure of her mothers hand dragging her through the foyer to the centre of the house with a massive circular staircase.

"I think it's time for you, sweetheart, to go to bed,"

"Oh Jocelyn, leave the poor girl, she looks half in a daze-"

"Is this real life, or is this fantasy?" Clary began singing, and Luke just burst into laughter.

"You can go exploring tomorrow, right now, bed."

"Okay, okay." Normally, Clary would argue more for her case and she already had Luke backing her, but she secretly couldn't wait to see her room.

She was led up the stairs, taking a left, then a right, then down another hallway, till finally she was standing outside a brown embossed door. Her mother paused and inhaled deeply. That apprehension was back. Clary could see it in her eyes, could almost smell it on her skin.

"This use to be my old room when I lived with my parents, your grandparents." She stopped, and hesitated before saying, "Your clothes and boxes are still inside the movers truck so you can wear my old clothes, I'm sure they'll fit you. And you don't have to worry about dust because I made sure Luke on his weekend up here set it up for you." She bent down and kissed Clary lightly on the cheek. "Goodnight, my angel." and left her standing in front of her new room alone, not even bothering to come with her.

"Goodnight mum." Clary echoed and found herself tyring to swallow a lump in her throat. It was odd really. Everything seemed so familiar to her and yet she hadn't the faintest memory of this place and her mum was acting so _strange. _Pushing back her thoughts she grabbed the doorknob and felt for the light switch. The room was bare of photos and personal items but held the feeling of years of use and seclusion as if it held the secrets of old memories and of nights, separated from the world.

The walls were painted a calming mauve, Clary noted, against a white ceiling. There was an empty bookcase to the side, a dark mahogany desk and an artist easel next to a bay window, all encasing a massive four-poster bed.

She stopped, scanned the room and closed the door off from the hallway and dropped her bag. She shook her hands out, started counting as if in a race and ran, jumping onto the bed with a soft thump and laughed into the pillows. _This is insane and _really _comfy. _Clary reluctantly pulled herself away from the soft comfiness that was her bed and looked to the sliding doors of what could only be a walk-in-wardrobe. Curious, as to whether what her mother said was true, she opened the doors to dresses and shoes and mountains of clothes folded in deep corners. _Of all the things to keep in an empty room, why clothes? _Running her fingers along the dresses, she felt the smoothness of silk and scratchiness of lace alike. Even the pyjama's she came across were silk. She settled instead for an old t-shirt and shorts she found folded in a drawer.

And without meaning to she could feel a twinge of anger and resentment well up in her chest, taking root behind her ribs and crushing her lungs. It was small, but it was there. Coming here - coming _back_ \- to this place where her mother owned a manor in an expensive town, with expensive clothes, and expensive furniture, she couldn't help but wonder where all this money was when they were on the run, so to speak. Moving from one city to another, when they could have lived here or taken it's money worth and bought a nice house in a city of her mothers choosing. Then again, she did understand and wished Jonathan was here to remind her, for her memory was fractured and poor and his was crystal clear. She couldn't decide who got the better deal, but then again, knowing the truth was better than being lied to and sheltered.

Leaving her wardrobe, she went and peeked her head outside the door and listened for voices. She didn't think she could find her way back to the staircase without making a fool of herself so she strained her hearing at the low tones of hushed whispers and made out her mother and Luke speaking at the end of the hallway.

"… worried… she wont fit in…. class and the society… what if…"

She crept closer at the stressed mussing of her mum and shrunk back at the sight of Luke's shadow near the door.

"She's fine Jocelyn, you can't shelter her forever just look at Jonathan. I think it's time we go to bed and get some rest." Luke whispered, his voice clearer as he moved closer to the door to shut it behind him.

Covered in darkness, Clary crept back to her room and leaned against the door. Was her mother worried she wouldn't fit in at school here? Were the people that much different from in New York? More confused than ever, Clary turned the light off and moved to open her window to get some fresh air. Drawing the curtains away, Clary was startled by the glowing gold eyes staring across from her. Blinking furiously, she rubbed her eyes and looked again, seeing into a dark room with the curtains pulled back and the light off. She needed slept desperately or she was going to give herself a migraine, Clary thought and crawled into bed pulling her phone out to text Simon.

_Arrived and going to bed. Speak to you soon – C_

Forgetting about gold eyes and stressful mothers, Clary wished she could talk to her brother, wondering where he was in the world. And when she finally feel asleep, it was to the feeling as if she were still inside Luke's pickup with the constant hum of the engine and roll of the wheels on uneven roads underneath her.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2: Anticipated Visits**

The shuffling of feet and quietly closed doors could be heard throughout the echoing house when Jocelyn come into Clary's room. "Clary, darling, it's time to get up."

"Nooooooo," Clary moaned into her pillow, rolling away from her mother's gentle shake and promptly decided to bury her head underneath the covers.

She could hear the irritation in her mothers voice and imagined her standing with her hand's firmly on her hips when she spoke, "Clary, it's half past eight in the morning and I will not let me daughter sleep till noon because-"

"A day slept in is a day wasted, I know." She popped her head out and looked at her mother who moved her hands from her hips to cover her mouth, shoulders shaking.

"Clary, you hair-" laughed Jocelyn when she received a mouth full of pillow. Clary pouted pathetically at her and crossed her arms in defiance.

"Where's the bathroom?"

Still laughing and clutching her pillow tightly, "On your right."

Clary scurried out of the room and away from her mothers embarrassing laughter, yelling, "You know I get it from you right? I wonder how you looked this morning?" sticking out her tongue and shut the door with a minor bang.

The bathroom, although less impressive than other rooms was gorgeous and petite, perfect for a small girl like Clary complete with fresh towels and everything. She looked behind her and sighed at the sight of her hair. She looked like she had an afro in the shape of a tornado. _Damn comfy bed giving me bird's nest hair. _Looking at the bath with it's various taps and knobs; she said, "Off to work we go."

….

Hair relatively nice? _Check. _Splattered Chuck Taylors on? _Check. _Fly done up? _Check. _

Clary listed off everything in her head that needed to be ready like she would with Jonathan on their first day in a new city. She could almost hear the tell-tale of a chuckle escape his lips in her head at that last one, and the memory of meeting their new neighbours and having them point it out to her while Jon laughed. That lump was back again, in the middle of her throat.

Luke had stacked her boxes outside her door, few as they were, which she couldn't be bothered to unpack. She fled down the hallway in search of the stairs and caught the scent of sweet, sticky food. Pancakes. Now she knew she had to get to where ever this blasted kitchen was. It took her several moments before she found the top of the banister and starred at the journey down. Thoughts of her gliding down the staircase as if it was a pile of snow filled her thoughts.

"Clary! Breakfast!"

And huffed in frustration instead.

"Coming!"

Following the sound of her mothers voice and the scent of freshly cooked pancakes, Clary raced down and past door after door until reaching a dinning room filled with shelfs and decorations of fine china. _This house is giving me a headache. _

"Come and sit Clary, there's plenty of pancakes to eat," called Luke who was watching Jocelyn in amusement and she fiddled with the plates, setting down a fourth stack of pancakes. Taking a seat next to Luke, she pulled the plate closer and started a new stack of her own.

"Coffee?"

"Steaming and poured in front of you."

"Syrup?"

"To your left."

"Neighbours?"

Luke paused and snuck a glance at Jocelyn, hurrying back into the kitchen for god only knows what, "Haven't arrived yet."

"I see," Clary dug in and turned to him shrugging, "Well, you're the one marrying the woman."

Sighing, he said, "I know."

Holding back a cheeky grin she nodded in the direction her mother had left and said, "So? Go help the psycho."

Muttering about redheads he got up and followed her mother like a dismayed puppy, stopping at the door suddenly as she began reaching for his plate. "Don't touch my coffee…. _or _my pancakes, there's no Simon to blame it on here." And left the room triumphantly.

"Damn," Clary whispered into her steaming mug. She couldn't help the cheesy grin that left her face, thinking that this is what it means to be a well-oiled family and no amount of moving or fine china could change that.

Finishing breakfast, Clary pushed her plate away and began exploring the rooms downstairs. As she walked and past each door, she peaked inside and listed all the different kinds of rooms. Starting near the front door, she began. There was a lavish foyer leading to the staircase upstairs, a sitting room with a fireplace with open sliding doors to a small library. _Keep moving, _she chided herself; she'll have to examine it later. Continuing on the other side was a music room, filled with a grand piano, a harp, _two _double cellos. Clary thought she had about as much musical skill as a squirrel, fat chance she'll ever spend time in _this_ room. Next was another sitting room, what she thought must be a cigar room and a billiard room? _It's the 21__st__ Century, who needs a billiard room? _But before she could reach for the handle, a bell chimed throughout the house. She heard her mother gasp and scurry to the door dragging Luke with her.

_Time to meet the neighbours, _Clary thought, her stomach twisting.

**…**

"Okay, is everyone ready?" Maryse called upstairs to her children, while Jace fixed Max's glasses from being crooked.

"Hurry up you two or well be late!" Isabelle, Jace's adoptive sister chastised. Holding back the urge to yell 'yes, mother' in her face he stood and began making his way down the stairs, Max trailing behind him.

"How can we be late if we're just going next door to say hi?" Max questioned as they met Alec.

"Because your sister is a woman with a tight-"

"Jace!" Alec yelled covering his litter brother's ears.

"schedule, I was going to say schedule."

Alec dropped his hands and Max instead began to fill in the blanks himself, "Were your going to say stick up her-"

"Max!" Alec and Jace yelled. Looking innocent and doe-eyed Max just turned and walked to his mother calmly while Alec slapped Jace across the head.

"Hey!" Jace started, "What was that for, I didn't even say it he-" and received another slap in response.

"Yeah, but I bet you taught him that. If Mom heard she would have been furious."

"How do you know it was me?"

"He's right Alec, for all we know it could have been your naughty boy toy Magnu-"

"SHHH! Isabelle, Mom could hear!"

"Hear what?" Maryse questioned, turning her gaze towards the two boys and then drifting to her only daughter as she descended the stairs. Jace thanked the angels that Isabelle was Isabelle, distracting Maryse with her slightly less than traditional clothing. Pursing her lips, Jace could see Maryse holding back any comments she wished to make about her daughter's appearance. Wearing thigh high boots over a pair of skinny jeans with a cream lacy blouse, it was actually one of her better choices in Jace's opinion. There was no telling Isabelle what she could or could not do, and they had all learned that the hard way over the past few years.

Turning instead to the front door, Maryse handed Alec a tray of freshly baked muffins and began walking out the door, not even waiting to see if her children followed.

"I wonder if they have any kids my age," Max said. It must be hard for the little guy, Jace thought, having all these older siblings to watch over him, and treating him like a little boy with no one his own age to take the heat with.

"Maybe, I just remember a boy not much older than Alec and a girl, Clarissa. We use to play together as kids. She had the reddest hair. Do you remember her Alec?" Isabelle questioned, heels clicking as she walked.

"Yeah, Jace use to tease her about her freckles."

"Did I?" Jace said, his face a mask of indifference as if he couldn't recall. But, he could recall, quite clearly actually. Ever since Max had spotted the movers truck outside their house yesterday and Maryse had told them the Fairchild's were moving back into town, he couldn't stop himself from remembering. He'd stayed up all night and waited to catch a glimpse of that red hair and freckles. He'd watched her go into the room through the window across from his and jump, laughing onto the bed. It sounds stalker-ish, he knows but he just wanted to see whether or not she was real, not some sick fantasy he had conjured up as a kid. _Don't be a cliché, she's just a girl, she probably doesn't even remember you. _Although he wouldn't be surprised if she'd caught him yesterday staring through their windows. He'd ducked and lay on the floor when he saw her coming and stayed there till he was sure she wasn't looking. _You're Jace Herondale and you _do not_ hide from girls._

"This house use to scare me." Max said, pulling Jace from his musings.

"Why'd it scare you? Nothing's ever happened there and if Jace told you that there's ghosts he's lying." Isabelle said, shooting Jace a glare.

_Geeze, what twisted her panties into a knot?_

"No, I don't believe in ghosts," Max replied heavily with indignation, starling them.

"Then why, little brother of mine?" Jace questioned. If anyone could get Max to talk, it would be him.

"Because, nobody ever goes in there. Nobody cleans it, nobody lives in the house," They were walking up the steps now, onto the front terrace, "It's just a pile of bricks and dirt without anyone to tell it's story. Mom use to tell me every home has a story, but nobody seems to remember this one. It doesn't even have a memory anymore. It's-"

"Sad. Depressing." Jace finished for him and bent down to ruffle his hair. "When did you get so wise?"

"It wasn't talking to you, that's for sure." Isabelle said without the same harshness in her voice she normally used to piss Jace off. He turned to retort but stopped at the look Maryse was giving them. It wasn't reprimanding, it was… melancholic. Jace wondered what for.

She turned away after noticing his gaze and said, "Stand up straight you four, I don't want Jocelyn to think you've grown up with bad posture." And rung the doorbell. _Jocelyn? _he thought vaguely, _she must have been good friends of the family before they left. _So Jace stood up, his hand resting on Max's head as he continued to ruffle his hair, waiting for the mahogany door to open and the chance to see green eyes starring back at him.

…

Jocelyn opened their front door to reveal what appeared to be the entire family from next door. "Maryse," Jocelyn whispered, her mouth opening again, but no words seemed to escape.

"It's good to see you too Jocelyn," said the woman who Clary assumed was Maryse. She was the only adult out of the group of five. Standing with her back straight and lips pulled into a thin line, her presence alone seemed to radiate superiority. Taking a step forward the two women embraced each other silently as if they were long lost friends.

Clary looked at Luke, already fresh out of surprises due to the last 12-hours she had spent here and saw he didn't seemed fazed by this at all. Turning back to the front door, she saw the woman's – Maryse – and what could only be her children exchange peculiar looks. Three of them stood together, all sharing the same dark haired beauty and the same sense of height, except of course, for the youngest who looked about 9 years old. Clary immediately thought of Simon with his ruffled hair and square rimmed glasses but discarded the thought.

Feeling as though she were being watched, she turned and found herself looking at what could only be considered a human form of the sun. Not sharing in any of the other's looks, this boy, this _teenage_ boy, was all gold and sunlight and was staring at Clary as though no one else existed in this short hallowed space between the two doors.

The two women broke apart and she watched as he tore his gaze from her to look at his mother, or her mother. She wasn't really paying attention anymore. She was starring at him instead. _Those eyes, _Clary thought, _I swear I've seen them before_, and her head gave a dull, painful throb pulling her back into reality.

"-inside?" Her mother had just finished saying. Everyone began walking into the house, while Clary stood motionless and dazed at the door.

"Faint at the sight of me? You know it's rude to stare." He whispered going past, leaving Clary to gather her wits and close the front door. _Okay, that's how you want to play golden boy? That's how I'll play. _

Entering the sitting room Clary took a seat next to Luke looking at the tray of muffins being placed on the table. _They always bring food,_ Clary thought; _I just hope it's better than Madame Dorothea's_.

"Lucian, it's so wonderful to see you again. I see that you and Jocelyn have finally tied the knot, huh?" exclaimed Maryse. Clary half expected her to start wiggling her eyebrows suggestively at Luke. His face went a shade darker than normal at her words.

"Ah, not yet, but soon. And I go by Luke now." He amended, "How's Robert doing?" Luke replied, polite and calming as ever.

"He's good actually. He's away for work in Indonesia being a Doctor without borders for a while, he wont be back till the end of September I'm afraid. I'm left to deal with these delinquents on my own." Her gaze drifting briefly to the golden boy. She put her hand to her chest in surprise, "I've completely forgotten my manners, this is my eldest son Alec," indicating to the dark, shabby haired boy next to her slouching into the couch. He looked up and Clary saw the most startling pair of blue eyes, "my daughter Isabelle," with skin like porcelain the young girl let a cat like grin cross her features and Clary eyes couldn't help but notice the designer jeans and leather boots. "My youngest, Max," who turned and waved hello all jittery and nervous looking about the room. "And this is my adoptive son, Jace Herondale."

Clary glared at him, determined to commit his name to memory and he just smiled devilishly at her mother in response, "Pleasure to make your acquaintance," giving that arrogant nod that boys sometimes do. _Prick._

Her mother looked slightly surprised but just smiled politely at Jace and continued talking, "I remember you from when you were little, you look just like your mother at her age Isabelle."

"So does your daughter Jocelyn."

Clary nearly scoffed. Her mother was graceful where Clary was hopelessly clumsy. Beautiful where she was childish. Able to control her emotions whereas she could not be tempered. Schooling her features into a civil smile she hoped she looked every bit the perfect daughter.

"Yes, she does, I'm sure you remember Clary," her voice wavered slightly there, and Clary thought she could almost hear a warning tone but then she started talking about Jon, "My son, Jonathan couldn't be here as he is currently taking a tour of Europe."

There was a tense silence before Isabelle spoke up, her voice as silky as water, "You have a beautiful home, Mrs Fairchild."

Her mother and Luke chuckled, "Please, call me Jocelyn. Thank you, but you could say the place definitely needs a dusting." Back to silence again. If someone didn't say something soon, Clary thought she might laugh hysterically at how ridiculous this situation was. Alec it seemed refused to look anyone in the eye, Jace was scrapping at his nails and Clary was surprised to see that they didn't shine gold as well. Isabelle was lounging there like a feline cat, curiosity gleaming in her eyes, and Clary imagined a long curved tail sweeping back and forth like a clock chime, hypnotising them all.

"How about us adults go into the drawing room and let you kids get acquainted?" Jocelyn suggested, and Clary nearly screamed at her, _don't leave me _alone _with them! _But she was already standing, Maryse and Luke with her.

"That's an excellent idea. Children, behave yourselves."

As they walked out, Jocelyn leant down near Clary and whispered, "Be nice," and left her to deal with the stranger's in their new home.

Clary didn't know what to do. Frozen in shock and apprehension she turned to the three teenagers in front of her and the young boy completely oblivious to his surrounding's, examining the room like she wanted too. Dealing with other people hadn't always been her strong point. She normally had Jon for that, him and his contagious charisma. Swallowing her fears she heard Jon's voice echoing in her head, _Grow some balls Clare-bear, you're tougher than nails._

"So where did you move from?" Isabelle's voice rang out, making Clary jump out of her reverie.

Thankful for some conversation she said shakily, "Oh, um, New York. Specifically Brooklyn actually." _This time._

Jace leaned forward to listen, and Alec turned his head like he was actually interested.

"That must be a big difference."

Startled, she realised Alec had said this, "Different how?"

"Moving from 'The Big City' into a town like Idris. We haven't exactly got the whole never sleeping thing going on here." He said it like a well-known fact, his voice surprisingly confident for somebody who seemed so quiet and reserved.

_This isn't so bad_. Exhaling, she replied, "You're telling me. It's a lot quieter, that's for sure, and a lot more…. spacious, in a way." Extending her arms out at the house in example. Houses and small apartments in Brooklyn didn't even compare to this.

"If you think New York is loud, you're in for a ride. Idris is far from quiet, and the only sleep we get isn't the pleasant kind." Jace joined in, with what she thought was a characteristic smirk on his face.

"Why, because _you're_ giving everybody nightmares? I'm sorry, _Joyce,_ was it?" She shot back venomously, and then shut her mouth, shocked at herself. The faces of Isabelle and Alec were priceless. Max had even turned to listen and Jace just looked pleased at her words, like she'd passed some kind of test he'd created and got satisfaction out of rubbing her the wrong way.

Then, as if in an alternate reality she heard Isabelle burst into laughter. "I like you." She said between gasps. Alec was even smiling. "Any girl that can stick it to Jace like that is a friend of mine."

Despite these weird turn of events she smiled. She didn't know why she just said what she said, other than Jace being an arrogant jerk at the door; normally she could keep herself under control. There was just something about him that made her feel outside of her own skin.

"I'll have you know that Joyce is a very masculine female name," Jace said, a hand on his chest as though he were hurt by her words.

"Yes, and they all seem to sport unnaturally sized heads, remarkably smaller that your own."

"How you wound me. My head is just a lot more…. naturally gorgeous and model-like than others. I apologise for it's abnormal awesomeness, you can't help what you're born with."

"What? A pretentious attitude and shiny blonde hair?"

"Add stunning good looks and perfect teeth, and you've got yourself the whole package."

"Package full of garbage. Any girl that falls for that must be blind_ and_ deaf to compensate."

"Only blinded by my beauty you mean."

"If by beauty you mean complete hideousness than yes, I think your right."

He grinned a Cheshire grin. "You only wish you had a piece of this," gesturing to his body like a piece of cake.

"Yes I would love to have a piece of," reaching down onto the coffee table, "your mothers muffin. You on the other hand, can be devoured preferably by a pack of dogs elsewhere," sticking a piece of muffin in her mouth for good measure. The tangy flavour of raspberries and coconut filled her mouth. It did taste good.

She was sure her usually pale face was flushed and matched the colour of her hair but she couldn't believe where this confidence was coming from. And she was revelling in it. He just pulled all the anxiousness out of her and made her want to punch him instead.

"What's going on?" Max asked, and somehow they were all laughing and Clary didn't think she had felt this comfortable with a group of strangers in her life. Was that what Jace wanted her to feel? To piss her off so much that she disregarded that she didn't know them, and that they didn't know her? Their bickering came naturally, as if it was second nature. Did they know her? Did he? No one else but Jon knew all the right buttons to push to make her act like that.

She looked at him, really looked at him. She analysed him like she would a painting or a house, study its architecture,_ his_ architecture. How he squeezed his eyes shut and laughed clutching his stomach. His long fingers fisted in his shirt. The shape of his face, his cheekbones, the colour of his eyes… Was he watching her last night? _No, that was just my imagination, lack of sleep, surely… _If he was watching her she had to be sure. She didn't know him, she convinced herself, although she felt her stomach churn, like it did whenever she told a lie. And he didn't know her.

She licked her lips, dry from laughing so hard. Max still stood there slightly dumbfounded, but seemed reassured that everything was okay. Isabelle was wiping her eyes, Alec was chuckling lightly, and Jace was still laughing. It was contagious, and Clary couldn't help grinning at the sound. When he wouldn't stop, Isabelle reached over and slapped Jace across the head.

"Ouch! What's with everyone and slapping me across the head?"

"Cause you're being an idiot that's why! Calm down, geeze."

He was still smiling though, and not the arrogant, devilish kind. More sincere, human even.

Isabelle turned around, ignoring him and asked, "I can't wait till you come to school with us on Monday. You'll get to meet Maggie and everyone. I have to take you shopping. Are you free tomorrow? Oh my gosh, you are going to Alicante High, right?" She was so animated, saying everything in one breath. She reminded Clary of little kids when they discovered a shiny new toy they could play with. _Oh, boy._

"Are there any other high-schools here?"

She stopped, looked thoughtful for a second and said, "No, you're right. Gosh, I've lived here my whole life and I had to think about that for a moment. Did you miss Idris while you were gone? You know, living in Brooklyn, I mean."

Clary's face dropped at the question. _This is going to be embarrassing to explain. _Jace had moved forward at her expression and Alec interrupted her before she could answer, "Isabelle, leave the girl alone, your bombarding her with questions."

"It's fine. No, really." _Think, Clary, think. _"I actually can't remember living here exactly. There was an accident, when I was about nine. I fell down a flight of stairs," _fell, was pushed. Same difference. _"I came out of it fine but I banged my head pretty badly and suffered from amnesia." She didn't say it was meant to be temporary or that her therapist said it was suppressed memories from severe mental and not just a tumble down the stairs. She was told she was lucky, in the end. Who would want to remember an abusive childhood?

She saw the dumbfounded looks on their faces and a shadow cross Jace's face. His face took on the same expression he wore at the front door. Plain indifference.

"I'm fine now. No brain damage, I swear. Except for the fact that I have two left feet." She added quickly, her palms were sweating. Why wont they say anything?

"Well, Isabelle will just have to show you around wont she?" Alec added.

Smiling, as if this was the perfect plan, Isabelle repeated, "Tomorrow. Shopping with me. You in?"

Clary relaxed, "Sure. Better than cleaning this house."

"Excellent. It's a date."

"Kids?" Maryse walked in suddenly, silent in a pair of high heels. _How do woman do that?_ "I think it's time we go. Jocelyn has some unpacking to do."

Everyone stood up from their place and began walking to the door.

"Thank you for coming again Maryse. When we're finished over here we'll have you and your family over for dinner."

"No, please let me – "

As they exchanged pleasantries Isabelle walked up to Clary, tall as anything and wound her arms around her. "It was lovely meeting you Clary. I can't wait to hang out tomorrow."

"Me too." Clary replied, startled at the human contact.

Alec gave an awkward nod goodbye.

Then there was Jace and he smirked down at her in all his golden glory, but it seemed his heart wasn't in it as much as it had been in the sitting room.

"You're a feisty one you know that Little Red."

"Right back at you Blondie."

He paused, as if to hug her like Isabelle, or engage in another kind of human contact. Clary would never know.

"Clary?" She turned to see Max, a few inches shorter than her, looking up with curiosity in his big, brown eyes. They were almost as black as his hair.

"Yes Max?"

"I'm sorry to hear about losing your memory. Maybe you'll remember someday or make some new one's here instead."

Touched by his words, all Clary could say was, "Maybe."

Jace looked as astounded as she felt.

"Time to go, Jace?" Max asked, turning to his older brother.

"Time to go." And they turned to leave, that same curiosity mirrored in Jace's piercing golden eyes.

Her mother closed the front door and let out a dramatic breath.

"That wasn't so bad, now was it mom?"

Jocelyn looked at her daughter as if she was crazy, and Luke popped out behind one of the doors behind her and said, "What time is it?" holding out three cans full of wall paint.

"PAINT TIME!" Pushing thoughts of Jace and his eyes out of her head. She grabbed her mom and started dragging her upstairs. Purple was just _so_ not her colour.

…

She didn't remember him. Couldn't possibly remember. She'd acted the same, had the same attitude, same laugh, same fire, same _annoying_ stubbornness. All the characteristics he remembered from his childhood. It _was_ Clary and he hadn't imagined her. She just didn't remember him, or anything apparently. _Fell down a flight of stairs? Has amnesia? There has got to be more to that story._ She didn't remember Alec or Isabelle or him. Or this life that everyone in Idris seems to lead. Her story would explain why there was no goodbye. She was here one minute, gone the next. Just like his parents.

There was something different though about her, she seemed more afraid, more anxious about being inside of her own skin, of the blood running through her veins. Of the girl from his constant, reminding memories. _Everybody changes, she's grown up and so have you. So stop behaving like an idiot. _A voice uncannily similar to Isabelle's echoed in his head. Maybe it was his conscious creating a voice of reason for him, but why it was Isabelle's, he'll never know.

Looking at Max as they walked away from the Fairchild Manor he recalled what he said. If Clary didn't remember him, or the time they shared together as childhood best friends, he'd either make her remember, or create some new memories instead. His conscious was right on one point, he'd admit. They had grown up, and she was stunning.

"When did you get so wise Max?" Jace asked as they strode into the Lightwood Manor, Alec and Isabelle bickering, Maryse moving ahead to finish up some business in her office.

"You're just jealous that I'm smarter than you."

"One day kid, one day."

…

It was dinner at the Lightwood's and Alec and Isabelle were still bickering, something along the lines of Izzy dressing Alec? A makeover? Jace didn't exactly tune into these kinds of conversations.

Breaking off from their constant bickering _finally. _Isabelle turned her attention to dinner, specifically the process of cooking it.

"Mom, do you think you could show me how to make Schnitzel Parmigiana?"

"No." voiced everyone at the table.

With her mouth wide open she turned and stared at Max. "You've turned on me!"

"No I haven't, your cooking's terrible. Jace says so."

Damn it. Of course the kid had to include him.

"Jace!" and a swift kick in the shin soon followed.

"What is with everyone and injuring me today?" His hand gently rubbed his leg.

Alec, always the logical one, answered him, "Well for one you've been teaching Max bad language. Secondly, for being an idiot at the Fairchild's, and thirdly, again for teaching Max that Isabelle's cooking is bad, but-"

"Now _you've_ turned on _me." _

"Well you didn't let me finish did you?" Jace huffed at him, "Now then, I must agree with Jace while we're speaking the truth here-"

"And Mom's present so I can't kill you." A murderous gleam in her eyes.

"You're cooking _is_ terrible Isabelle. Don't you remember the last time I was sick and Mom was out so you decided to cook me your 'special' chicken/fish/spinach/tomato/noodle soup? I was almost sent to the emergency room because of that."

"Well, if it was so bad you didn't have to eat it."

"You stood over me with the ladle until I was done."

"Well excuse me for being concerned about your well-being."

"You are such a-"

"You two, enough. You're giving me a headache," called Maryse from the head of the table, cutting off their bickering.

The two shut up and Jace was grateful for the silence. Max had slinked off during the arguing taking his plate with him, and Alec and Isabelle were glaring daggers at each other instead. _The gift of siblings, _Jace thought rolling his eyes.

"Mom," Isabelle's voice broke the peaceful silence, _what now? _"Did you know that the Fairchild's daughter has amnesia?"

Alert as a dog when he hears a whistle, Jace turned his head so sharply he heard his neck crick.

Maryse's arms tensed, and he saw the white of her knuckles as she clutched her fork and knife. "What do you mean?"

"Clary told us she fell down a flight of stairs when she was little and lost her memory. A bit strange don't you think?" _Clary was always falling over, _Jace mused, he remembered teasing her about her clumsiness and then _she_ kicked him in the shins as revenge. But something didn't add up and Isabelle, wonderful, intelligent, Isabelle has picked up on it too.

"Is that why they left?" Isabelle asked.

"Among other reasons, yes." Maryse replied. It looked like she wanted to drop the subject.

"What about her father. Their last name wasn't always Fairchild. It use to be Morgenstern and they're obviously not together anymore so-"

"Jace," she warned. "I think it's your turn to do the dishes tonight." Effectively cutting him off. He and Isabelle started to protest, "Enough. Why the Fairchild's or Morgenstern's or whatever you want to call them left is their own business. And don't you dare go bother that poor girl Clary. She already has plenty to deal with. So stop snooping." Pointing a finger at Alec with a dangerous glint to her eyes, she commanded, "Alec, I expect _you_ to make sure these two don't get into any trouble. Now goodnight you three." Pushing her chair back, she left the dinning room.

Turning to Isabelle when Maryse was out of ear shot, Jace whispered quietly, "You think something's up as well? I've been going crazy thinking about it-"

"You guys, you heard what mom said. You've got to stop." Alec whispered his tone laced with warning.

"Aren't you a little curious too Alec?" Isabelle asked her eyes never leaving Jace. He could see the gears virtually turning in her head like clockwork.

"Well, yes."

"Then there. We wont get into any trouble, plus you'll be right there with us snooping to stop us if we get out of control."

"I-"

"No arguing Alec." An impish grin on her face, "I thought you didn't remember Clary, Jace? Plus all that friendly banter you two had together today. Don't think I haven't got my eye on you too."

Jace was speechless _and_ impressed. Alec's mouth was hanging wide open and Isabelle stood up, sly as a lioness and seemed to purr, "Isabelle, 1. Jace and Alec, 0." And slinked away whispering quietly, "I still got it."

"She's your sister you know."

"I know."

"Don't forget to do the dishes Jace!" She called from the top of the stairs, her laughter ringing out and echoing through the vacant house.

Jace remembered his earlier words to Clary. Idris was far from quiet, and it seemed as if thing's were going to get a little crazy around here.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3: A Problem with Memory and Staircases**

_Clary was surrounded by darkness. She felt her body move, her fingers twitch as if she were waking up out of a heavy dream but couldn't grasp control of her limbs. The sound of rushing water vibrated through her skull with the quiet sobs and gasps of someone crying. She knew she should feel scared or worried, but instead felt a sense of detached calmness, her heart beating regularly inside her chest as if this was normal, as if there was nothing in the world to be afraid of right now._

_A hand brushed Clary's cheek gently and her eyes began to open, their lids sticking to each other as if coated in glue._

_"__Oh Clary, sweetheart, can you hear me? It's Mommy, darling." A woman with bright red hair came into focus before her. She looked different to Clary, younger, but with dark circles beneath her eyes and worry lines gracing her usually calm features. They weren't calm now though, they were erratic, disfigured by tears and a watery smile. _

_Despite it's heavy grogginess Clary's head felt smaller somehow, and she looked down to see she had the small body of a child, covered in thin cream sheets and pyjamas twice her size. _

_She looked back at the woman with difficulty and said without thinking or even the will, "You're my Mommy?" It came out as a question as if she wasn't certain and Clary realised that she was watching the scene through the eyes of this little girl, a spectator it seemed, within her own body._

_She saw something flash in her mother's eyes as if they were made of an emerald glass and Clary had just shattered them to pieces. But the moment was gone and her eyes looked the same as before, sad and… determined. "Yes, I'm your Mommy." _

_"__What about me, Clary? Do you know me?" Clary turned as the sudden pressure in her right hand increased. Her eyes were pulled to a small boys dark searching ones that shone brightly against his pale blonde hair, almost the colour of snow. _

_"__And you…. You're my big brother?"_

_He smiled then as if the weight of the world had left his shoulders at her words. "Yes, I'm your brother, Jonathan."_

_A man walked into the room then in dark jeans and a red plaid shirt. _It's Luke. What's happening here? _Clary thought as her gaze drifted away to rest on the eyes of a small boy behind Luke with yellow and green eyes, the shade of a cats, as he peaked his head from behind the door. _

_Luke's face was as hard as steel as his eyes wandered past her mother, and then softened when they came to her. Young Clary didn't notice, and instead turned to her brother and asked, "Who's he? Do I know him?" _

_"__That's our Uncle Luke." Jon said to her, quickly looking to his mother to confirm what he said was true. _Of course it was true, why wouldn't it be?

_"__Clary, sweetheart. I'm going to go and talk to Uncle Luke for a minute, I'll be right back I promise." Jocelyn said, standing up and following Luke out the door, his face had turned back to stone._ _The boy who was there had vanished leaving an imprint of his startling eyes near the door._

_Young Clary's gaze moved from there across the room, over the blue walls, the boots near the door, the dust clinging to shelves. "Where are we?" she asked._

_"__You don't… we're um, at Uncle Luke's country house." Jonathan replied. The whispers from outside the door were growing louder and Jon grabbed her small, delicate hand in his slightly larger ones and squeezed, drawing her attention away from the voices. _

_"__Clary, do you… do you remember any- anything about Dad?" His voice broke halfway through the sentence. _

_"__Dad?" She repeated, her voice soft and quiet as her head begun to throb slightly. "My head hurts." Her hands moved and reached up to clutch her skull. Clary felt a thin raised line of skin beneath her fingers, a closed wound coated fresh with blood._

_"__I know Clary, I know." He shushed her and Clary, the Clary watching in the dream, felt the pain like a sharp needle being pressed into her skull, between tendons and tissue, touching nerves and shredding bone. Her eyes shut tightly with pain, and the dream began to change as if being sifted through water and images of a man with hair like Jon's and eyes cruel and sharp like obsidian held out needle after needle to her, pressing deep into her skin. And then he was holding down her arms as she kicked out her legs, and grasped a tiny thin blade so _sharp _and grazed it over her head that she screamed and screamed and screamed – _

_And she was being pulled back into the blue room and realised she wasn't the only one screaming. People were running inside, her mother, Luke, the boy with the cat eyes. Luke's face loomed above hers grabbing her hands from ripping out her hair and shook her shoulders roughly, yelling over her screams, "Wake up Clary. WAKE UP!"_

And Clary was awake, being pulled into a sitting position as Luke held her forward gasping for breath, her heart _pounding_, and stomach twisting painfully. "Luke," she gasped, "I think I'm gonna be si-" she didn't get to finish her sentence when her mother appeared, a bucket in hand as she vomited violently into it, hair being pulled back by various hands.

"Everything's okay. Your okay." Her mother cooed into her ear after she dry heaved into the bucket a few final times and sunk back into the pillows. Luke left the room with the bucket, a worried crease between his eyebrows as he brushed her hair from her sticky forehead.

"Was it the dream again?" Jocelyn asked and Clary nodded in response. Her throat was dry and tasted like acid. A glass was being pressed into her hands then and she welcomed its coolness taking deep gulps to soothe her ruined throat.

"There was more this time," she rasped after she finished the glass and set it shakily down next to her. She was in one of the guest rooms upstairs as hers smelt to heavy with paint to sleep in. "I – I saw his face this time, and he was holding these nee – needles," she could barely say the word without shaking, "and a knife, I don't know." She watched her mother share a shaky glance with Luke who just looked at Clary, ignoring her mom, and remember the look of stoniness on his face from the dream that she'd never seen before. "And my head hurt, like really hurt, I thought it was splitting open. Did I – did I scream?"

"Not too loudly, no. The neighbours wouldn't have been able to hear you." Luke said and at his words Clary visibly relaxed.

"I'm going to get you your sleeping tablets," Jocelyn said, declaring no argument at her words but Clary protested anyway.

"No, I don't want them. I refuse to take anything."

"Clary, you know what Dr Fell said."

"I don't give a shit what he said Mom. I'm not taking them. They make me feel… not like myself. Plus he doesn't even really know what's going on with me anyway."

"You will-," Jocelyn began, almost shouting.

"Jocelyn, you heard your daughter." Luke cut her off in a commanding voice.

"But-"

"No 'but's'," he stood up from knelling next to Clary's bed grabbed Jocelyn by the hand. "get some sleep Clary, you promised Isabelle that you'd go out with her and," voice rising over her mother's protests, "you need the fresh air." He bent down and kissed her gently on the forehead whispering goodnight, her mother doing the same although rather reluctantly.

Clary turned over and saw on her phone that the clock read 4 in the morning. Curling herself into a tight ball, Clary wished that Jonathan was here and that there might be the slightest chance she'd get any sleep. But she didn't.

…

Luke practically marched Jocelyn back to their room after they closed the door behind Clary.

"Luke, what are you doing?" Jocelyn asked as he shut the door behind them when they entered her parent's bedroom, the master bedroom.

"No Jocelyn, what are _you _doing?" He asked, spinning around to look at her, a look of merely suppressed rage on his face.

"I'm helping my daughter, what do you think I'm doing?" She snapped back. _Who gave him the right to question how I handle my own daughter, my flesh and blood? _Jocelyn thought, and then recoiled as if repulsed by her own mind.

"You're lying to her and to yourself. Why do you think Jonathan left?" He shot back just as fast and Jocelyn blanched in response, sitting down on the bed, her head resting in her hands.

"You… You're right." She whispered and he sat down next to her. "What did I do to deserve a man as loyal and loving as you?"

"You were yourself," Luke whispered, "not someone who hid behind lies and let her children live them."

"What do I do? What if everything becomes too much and Clary remembers after being back here. What if she hates me for taking her away from her friend's and family?" Jocelyn was in panic mode, and she began pacing back and forth in front of Luke and their bed.

"I know I may not have agreed to your methods seven years ago when you decided to run away from Idris and Valentine," he spat the name out as if it was poison on his tongue. "What's done is done, I'm just glad you let me into your life and being back here, yes, might help Clary remember but that's a good thing. They'll be a few scars but it's better than her living the rest of her life with this hole inside of her. She'll get the chance to create her own future, whether here in this god-forsaken town or somewhere else."

Jocelyn let out a sob then, shaking painfully at his words.

"Jocelyn, I didn't mean-"

"I know you didn't," and she let his hands curl around her waist and rested her head against the space between his neck and shoulder, taking comfort in his embrace. "I just wish things were different, that I didn't know _him_ and that he couldn't have scared us, scared me, into being such a coward."

"No you don't," Luke recounted, "because if things were different, and you didn't know him, you wouldn't have the amazing daughter or son you have today. Clary is strong, she takes after her mother you know." And Jocelyn let herself laugh despite the pain, because if she forgot how to laugh, she didn't think she'd could live with herself anymore.

"You are not a coward. You did the right thing yesterday telling Maryse the truth about what he did, why we left, and about Clary too." Luke continued, "All that's left to do is to tell Clary the truth. I know it may hurt, and I don't know if she'll hate you for it, but she has to know that although her father was abusive and he did terrible things to her and her brother, he didn't push her down a flight of stairs. It's because she, at nine years old, threw herself down a flight of stairs that you finally decided to leave. Because if she remembers before you tell her yourself and what has become of her the man who may have given her life but is the furthest thing away from being her father, I can't say for certain she'll forgive you."

Jocelyn sucked in a breath, and knew deep down that what he was telling her was the right thing to do but she couldn't help remembering Valentine's last words to her.

As if reading her thoughts, like Luke always does, he repeated as he had every single night since they decided to move back to Idris, "Valentine is dead, murdered in one of his own ludicrous deals. He can't hurt you or our family anymore."

But she wasn't so sure.

…

"I can't believe you're going _shopping_ Clary."

"Oh shut up Simon, just because I never go shopping with you does not make it a big deal."

"But, it's just so _girly. _And you, Fairchild are far from being _girly_."

Clary was sitting downstairs positioned comfortably along one of the many blue suede sofas adorning the library. The house was filled with the familiar scent of turpentine and rust, and to Clary it smelled liked home, a soothing scent after this morning's nightmare. With all the windows open, heavily frilled curtains swayed around her, the air filled with dust mixing with the perfume of paint.

"Are you insulting my lack of femininity?" She questioned Simon, his blurred face going in and out of focus on her laptop screen.

"I would do no such thing. We all know _I'm_ much more feminie than you."

She laughed. They had been skyping since the early hours of the morning. Clary couldn't fall asleep covered in sweat and still shaking from her nightmare so she had a shower and got ready for the day not wanting to look like vomit when she went out with the gorgeous Isabelle.

"So, this Isabelle girl. She hot?"

Simon had texted Clary last night asking how the 'visit' went and she organised the Skype call with him to explain. Luckily Simon always seemed to wake up bright and early and they started the conversation before the assigned time. She mostly just wanted to see a familiar face as well.

Rolling her eyes at him she began, "You're such a pig. But yes, she is quite beautiful, kinda like a panther."

"Do you mean the dark, mysterious, cunning kind of sexy panther? Or the barred teeth, fur coated in blood, claws raised kind of panther?"

Remembering yesterday and how Isabelle had positioned herself on that couch. Lounging like a cat, charcoal eyes gleaming curiously, her heeled boots shinning darkly.

"Both."

Simon starred at Clary, as best he could through the internet and a shitty camera lens. "And you're going shopping with this girl?"

"Yep," she popped the p.

"Where is Clarissa Fairchild and what have you done with her?" Although this sounded slightly offensive to Clary, Simon said it with a smile on his face as if amused by her 'outrageous' actions.

She stuck her tongue at him as an appropriate response.

"Besides, I really want to see the town. I've been stuck in this massive house for the past 2 days."

"You mean one day and two nights."

"Technicalities." Dismissing his argument with a wave of her hand and remembering Luke's words to her. She definitely needed some air.

"Must be torture too. Your new house has a miniature library? Plus a bunch of sexy new neighbours? When can I come and visit?"

Clary looked around the room self-consciously. She'd told Simon about her new place, or rather, family inherited one and how it seemed to have been taken out of another era and placed here in the middle of America. In spite of that, she didn't want him to come here and see it and think that Clary was suddenly rich and had never told him. Comparing this place to her apartment in Brooklyn, she couldn't bear it if Simon started to believe she was becoming some sort of entitled snob like the ones they'd make fun of at school.

"Never."

He pouted, "Why not?"

"Because _you_ just want to see Isabelle." She countered.

He looked away for a second, thoughtful. "You're right. And the pretentious, blonde, bastard brother of hers too."

"Adoptive brother, you mean. Why do you want to meet him?"

"Um, excuse me? You think this dude is watching you through your bedroom window? He was an asshole yesterday when you met him? Why wouldn't I want to meet him?" Clary could see his hands were in tight fists and started laughing at him again.

"Why are you laughing? This is serious Clary."

"You want to fight him?" Simon, in a fight? He blushed at her words.

"What's so laughable about that?" Indignation coming through her speakers.

"Nothing. Plus I'm sure he was just glancing out his window like any normal person." She'd seen Jace yesterday while she was painting her room with Luke and her Mom, going in and out of the room across from her window throughout the day. There was a good distance between them so she couldn't make him out very well during the day, but at night with the lights on she could see into his crisp white room pretty clearly.

"He sounds anything but normal Clary, and how about how rude he was to you yesterday?"

Rude was one way to look at it, but Clary didn't think so. Sure, maybe when he first opened his mouth and how he's seemed all high and mighty introducing himself. But besides that she'd found it fun, exhilarating even to engage in that playful banter with him. He reminded her a bit of her brother actually.

"That was just regular teenage banter. Like how I talk to you." Clary defended.

"Oh," he sounded dismayed, "so Blondie's replacing me now?"

"Nobody could replace you. You're stuck with me for forever Lewis, there's no getting rid of me or you any time in the near or distant future." She said, smiling warmly at him.

"I'm glad. I thought you were happy to be rid of me."

He spoke so softly in reply to that, that Clary couldn't hear him through the speakers.

"What?" But before he could repeat himself the doorbell rang.

"Clary!" Her mom yelled.

"Shit, it's already 9. I'm sorry Simon, but that's probably Isabelle. I've gotta go."

"Text me how shopping goes, I expect full details… and photos."

"You perv." The doorbell rang again. "Have fun at band practice with Eric and the boys." And hung up before he could say goodbye.

Running out the library door, Clary spun around the corner almost crashing into her Mom.

"Mom! What are you doing?" Clary moved to go around her but Jocelyn grabbed Clary's wrist to halt her movements. She was not staying at home just because she had a silly little nightmare this morning and attempted to wrench her hand from her mother grasp, but hesitated at the strange look on her face.

"Before you go today, I have something for you." With a hand on one wrist, Jocelyn held out her other with a shiny, silver plastic card balanced between her fingers.

Looking at her mother, back down to the card, back up to her mother, she finally asked, "Your giving my your credit card?"

"No, I'm giving you your own credit card."

"Excuse me?" Clary squeaked.

"I'm sorry about this morning. Just, have fun today okay?" Jocelyn said, and pushed Clary towards the door.

_What the hell just happened? _Shoving her hand in her bag, Clary stuffed the piece of plastic into her bag as quickly as she could, noticing the slight weight it seemed to carry now. If she thought she could buy her daughters forgiveness, she had no idea who she was dealing with, Clary thought, flinging open the door.

"I'm so sorry, Isa-," and saw that it wasn't Isabelle at her door; instead it was none other than the aforementioned pretentious blonde, Jace himself, "belle."

"You know it's rude to keep your guests waiting?" Jace said, leaning against the doorframe as if he had all the time and patience in the world, except, for her. And she didn't even know he was waiting for her.


End file.
